Serendipity
by Vestina
Summary: Fifty ways Anna and Kristoff meet in modern, alternate universes. Sweet and humorous with a touch of sarcastic dialogue. Each chapter is a 100 word drabble.
1. One

He despises Taco Bell. Really, if it weren't for Sven, he would be far, far away from this greasy hell.

"Dude!" Sven drawls. "A Coke!"

"Whatever."

And as he's reaching for the ice dispenser, he's thrown backward, blinded by an auburn mane of hair. "Sorry!" she titters, haphazardly dispensing bursts of soda.

She's about to snap the lid in place, when the brownish concoction tumbles down her sundress.

He grabs napkins, trying to blot it from her dress.

(Avoids her breasts.)

"Oh gosh, thanks..." she rambles.

"No problem."

Back to his table. "Where's my Coke?" Sven asks.

"They serve Pepsi."


	2. Two

It's rickety, this elevator. An old one, with mechanical doors looking like cages.

And when it halts on the fifth floor of her building, he saunters in, arms overflowing with a box of jars.

And really, she can't hold back such curiosity.

"Why so many jars?"

He turns to her, hazel brown eyes defined by fierce brows. "I throw them at trespassing children."

"What?"

"Doesn't understand sarcasm, okay..."

"Geez, I was just asking! You don't have to be rude. You don't even have to tell me."

Beat.

The elevator dings.

"Roses," he says, stepping out. "I use them for roses."


	3. Three

She bolts.

Get it off. Get it off her fucking hands.

She hates little kids. And their vomit.

Shoulders the metal plate into the bathroom

Swishes the sink on. Pumps enough soap in her hands to wash an elephant. The stall behind her squeaks open.

"Umm..." says a low-timbered voice.

She turns in horror. "Please say this isn't..."

He points to a urinal.

"Oh fuckity fuck!"

"Are you gonna pass out?"

"No." But her voice is tiny. He smirks. She finishes spraying soap off her hands. "Sorry, I'll be out of your way."

"It's all right. At least you're pretty."


	4. Four

6:30 a.m.

"Hi there!" What the hell can a grocery store clerk be so fucking happy about this early? "That will be $32.50!"

"What? No, I only have a watermelon!"

"Oops! I read the decimal wrong. $3.25." Fucking rip-off.

And she's seriously irritating him.

Drops the plastic bag as she thrusts it at him. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't bruise it, did I?"

"No, you're fine."

"Let me make it up to you."

"Don't reimburse me."

"Let me buy you coffee. Please?"

Damn, she's cute. Why are the obnoxious ones always cute? "Fine, but only on my terms."


	5. Five

Her breathing is labored when she halts at the stop sign, narrowly avoiding a semi barreling down the boulevard about six times faster than her cat hearing the can opener. 

"Fucking asshole!" 

"Angry much?" Another jogger she supposes, track pants, tee-shirt. Ridiculously attractive.

"He almost ran me over!"

"So you're gonna yell at him from down the street? Seem really logical." He's smirking.

And it's irritating the shit out of her. "Stop judging me, dude! Who the hell are you anyway?" His attractiveness is fading sharply.

"No one of any consequence, obviously."

And then he's running in the other direction. 


	6. Six

He's standing on the street corner, the traffic whizzing past him. 

And the map in his hands is tumbling out of control. So she dives in.

Can't blame her. He's cute.

Tosses his blonde hair.

Take that back. He's sexy. 

And disoriented. 

"Need directions?"

"Where's Shazer Avenue?"

Damn. He's rich. Or has a rich girlfriend. She probably pretty too. "Eight blocks north," she answers.

"Cool."

"You don't look sure."

"College roommate's family. Awkward, right?"

"Only if you didn't bring a dish to share."

"Well damnit then."

"There's a bagel shop right here."

"If only rich people ate something so lowly."


	7. Seven

Elsa's told her that she's too liberal with the pepper spray. Which is bullshit.

Until a guy in the grocery store reaches over her shoulder for a bunch of bananas, and she thinks he's trying to grope her.

(Even though it's obvious he's not.)

"Holy shit! Fucking hell, that burns! Aw damnit, damnit, damnit!"

"Oh gosh! Umm, water!" Grabs the water bottle in her purse, twists the top, and splashes it in his face.

"What the hell?" Droplets fall from his hair, streak down his cheekbones.

"I'm sorry!"

"Should I call the cops?"

"No! I'm not-!"

Laughs. "Don't worry, Sweetheart."


	8. Eight

Everyday. 8:27.

The subway doors swish open. The fourth car from the back. And he boards.

The stop at Ainsworth, 8:34, she gets on.

Everyday.

And he watches.

(But not like a stalker. He's not crazy.)

She sits on the sixth row from the front. The window seat.

She wears a gray beanie, but only when it's snowing.

Her braids peek out from underneath.

And has a ratty paperback in her hands.

The empty seat next to her taunts him, gleams in the orange rail lights.

Vonnegut. She's reading Vonnegut.

8:41.

Unexpectedly, she stands.

She sits down next to him.


	9. Nine

His head is pounding when he pulls off the highway. Realizes his options are equally terrible. He's going to conk out at the wheel. But, fuck, that motel looks like Jack the Ripper's grandmother decided to leave her ghost there.

He pulls over anyway.

Puts his Swiss army knife in his front pocket.

And it turns out there's only one room left. And it's going to the red-headed girl ahead of him.

Who's pretty enough to get raped.

Which is why he offers to split the room with her. He's a hero.

And prays to everything holy she says yes.


	10. Ten

He's got a pretty voice. Deep and rumbly. Like a boiling volcano.

Why the hell is this what flits through her mind as she rouses from... rouses from...

She not sure what.

"Hey! Hey!" And then quieter. "Did someone catch her name?"

"Anna," she murmurs through fumbling lips. Squints at the fluorescent shimmers above.

"Oh thank God. She's not dead."

She isn't. She thinks.

The first glimpse of him she catches is his hair.

And the ground beneath her is hard. Tries to sit, but everything spins so intently she loses control of her muscles.

But strong hands catch her.


	11. Eleven

She only paints her fingernails when she needs a good day. And today is orange. Because it's been so shitty for the past week... She doesn't want to think about it.

She's fidgety as she anticipates her latte.

When the guys hands it to her, it tumbles on the floor.

"Damnit!" she hisses. "Paper towel?" The guy rolls his eyes and hands her a roll.

She's practically in tears now.

A pair of hands, much larger than hers, rip a sheet from the roll. Dabs at the floor.

"Thank you," she murmurs.

His eyes are hazel. "It's cool." And smiles.


	12. Twelve

Her legs dangle over the back of her pick-up truck, flip-flops clinging to her toes. Below her, the ocean sprawls in loose waves.

His breath exhales in painful rhythms as he pushes his bike down the dirt path. Brakes harshly when he realizes it's a dead end. "Ah, fuck!"

She turns at the sound of his curse, the vulgar language hanging in the air. "Do you mind?" And then under her breath, "Asshole."

"Yeah, I'm leaving. Don't get your panties in a bunch, Sweetheart."

He turns to go. "Wait," she whispers. "Can I borrow your phone? My car battery's dead."


	13. Thirteen

She stumbles across his wallet. Not that she knows it was his at the time.

But she figures he'd want his driver's licence back.

Not to mention he's cute.

A slip of paper in the side compartment. His number. She presses the green button on her cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Um, I think I've found your wallet. Are you... Kirostofof?"

"It's pronounced Kristoff."

"Oh, yeah, duh." Tries to be cool. "So... do you like... wanna meet?"

"What if you're a stalker?"

'Do I sound like stalker? I couldn't even pronounce your name!"

"Fine. Meet me at the Burger King on 5th."


	14. Fourteen

When they're young.

On the swings.

A blond hair boy with his weird-looking dog.

"Hi!" she announces.

"Hi..." he says. (Less ostentatiously.)

"I'm Anna. Can I pet your dog?"

He looks down at his dog. "This is Sven... Sure, I guess you can pet him... He's pretty nice..." His fur scratches her palm. Looks at the boy.

"What's your name?"

"Krihmnph," he mumbles.

"What?"

"Kristoff," he says a little louder.

"Do you and Sven want to play tag with me?" Sweetly.

Twenty minutes later, as she's gasping for breath, her mother calls to her.

She doesn't want to go home.


	15. Fifteen

She knows her coworkers did this to her on purpose. She feels like she's in that wretched joke:

"'_How many redheads does it take to screw in a light bulb?'_

'_None, they're afraid they'll get burned.'"_

But, damn, electricity is scary.

So are ladders.

The basement stairs lurch. "Holy shit, it's dark down here!" a masculine voice says.

"Sorry," she apologises. "Changing the light bulb."

"Think you could do it before I trip on my face?"

Glances up at the circuit. "Yes?"

"So... no."

"Well, more like, shit no."

The blue light of a cell phone. "Let me help you."


	16. Sixteen

He flips on the news. A ginger reporter. Who's standing on a backdrop that looks extremely familiar.

Fuck... Fuck that's... his house. He bolts out the front door. "What the hell!"

"You've won Channel Nine's yard renovation contest!" the redhead titters.

"I didn't enter this contest."

And that's when Sven pulls up in his Porsche. Laughing hysterically.

"You did this?"

"Your yard's disgusting."

"Asshole."

"Umm," the reporter says. "We're on live TV. PG please."

"Yeah. Whatever. I don't want your yard shit."

"I don't think you have an option. We've already hired the crews."

"Great. That means you're coming back..."


	17. Seventeen

It was so cliche. But of course it happened to her.

She adores the farmer's market on Andey St.

She only took one peach.

But the rest tumbled down the fruit stand, cascading on the pavement. Collapses to her knees in a futile attempt to gather them.

The guy at the stand stifles a snort, which makes it sound like he's hacking a hairball.

"Sorry, sorry!" she panics. "I'll pay for all of them. Fuck, they're bruised."

"Nah, they were bruised before I came. But you could offer to buy me a drink."

And, fuck he's gorgeous. "Um, sure. Tonight?"


	18. Eighteen

He didn't mean to hit a random biker. But his call with Sven was becoming rather heated.

And then a loud thud.

His seatbelt tangles in his arms as he stumbles out of the car.

"Urrgh," she moans.

"Are you okay?"

"Does it look like I'm okay?" she moans.

He extends his hand, disentangling her from her tires. At least he was only going twenty-five. "I'm sorry. You're not bleeding are you?"

"I don't- Oh shit! Yep..." Crimson leaks from her elbow. Shrugs the messenger bag, so she can reach in for a band-aid.

"Gonna sue?"

"Hell no. Too lazy."


	19. Ninteen

To: reindeergames

From: braidedanna

I HATE YOU! STOP FUCKING STALKING ME!

* * *

To: braidedanna

From: reindeergames

You have the wrong email address. I'm not currently stalking anyone.

* * *

To: reindeergames

From: braidedanna

Wait, what? You aren't Hans?

* * *

To: braidedanna

From: reindeergames

No! I would never subject myself to such a foreign name.

* * *

To: reindeergames

From: braidedanna

The fucker gave me the wrong email address! Apologies for wasting your time.

* * *

To: braidedanna

From: reindeergames

Are you always so angry?

* * *

To: reindeergames

From: braidedanna

I don't have anger issues!

* * *

To: reindeergames

From: braidedanna

That's a lot of exclamation points for someone who isn't angry...


	20. Twenty

Faint light glimmers out of dingy bulbs. She taps her toes anxiously. Her elbow kills. Don't fall down the stairs.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He points at the seat adjacent.

"Do you mind if I periodically scream obscenities?"

"What?" he asks jokingly. "Do you have Turrets or something?"

"No! And the majority people with Turrets don't swear uncontrollably. They have, like, face twitches and stuff."

"That was a long sentence without swearing."

"Asshole."

"Didn't scream."

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

"Nah, I'm trying to piss off the chaplain over there."

Surprisingly, she bursts out laughing.


	21. Twenty One

He read somewhere that sitting in the front row on your first day of class makes a fabulous first impression.

So that's what he does.

However.

She runs in late, her arms spilling over with papers and textbooks. And of course the only seat left is directly behind him. He feels a tap on his shoulder.

"Do you have a pen? I left-"

He throws the fucking pen at her face.

The professor, a puny man named Weasletown, turns sharply. Stares down Kristoff.

And thankfully turns back to writing down the econ notes.

Glares forcefully at the girl behind him.


	22. Twenty Two

He munches another bagel chip. Free samples equal paradise.

A tap on his shoulder. She stands in an apron, holding a cellophane bag of bagel chips. Whispers, "I know what you're doing."

"Hmmm?" he asks, his mouth full.

"I've watched you; this is your fourth time at this sample station, and I saw you raiding the cheese table."

Shit.

"I'm sorry." Turns to leave. "I'll just-"

She snorts. And it's such a weird sound that he turns back. "No, sorry. I just have a confession to make."

"Yeah?"

"I don't work here. I stole this apron to talk to you."


	23. Twenty Three

"Can I help you, Sir?" He turns. Sees a girl looking at him hesitantly.

"No."

"Are you sure? It's just that... some of the other customers have been... commentating on your... choice of language. Apparently a "wild-looking" man has been swearing at the shoes... And since you happen to be the only man in the store..."

"Fine I'll leave. It's not like any of these shoes actually would fit me..."

"Is that why you were swearing?"

"Yes actually. None of these shoes are larger than size fourteen."

She glances down at his feet.

"I'd bet we could order them online..."


	24. Twenty Four

This is the third time it's happened to her.

And it has to stop.

She clips the magazine between the corners of her nails. Walks up to apartment 13C. Three levels above hers.

The door opens when she knocks.

"Hello?" he asks.

"Will you please asks the postman not to put the mail in the wrong slot!" Thrusts the porno at his chest.

"Uggh, what is this?"

"It has your address."

"Damn, it's probably Sven's. Fucking bastard."

"Sure... Blame it on your roommate in front of the pretty girl."

"Hey-"

"Don't worry, you're obviously too cute for something like that."


	25. Twenty Five

He slips in through the club's side door.

She's on the raised platform, reciting, her face animated, alive, wild hand gestures flailing.

He finds a seat a round table, transfixed.

He hopes she wrote the poetry herself.

Because it flames.

Like her. And her hair.

When she's done, his feet hit the ground, and his maneuvering around chairs.

To talk to her. Because she's amazing.

Except he has no idea what to say. Which makes it good when she asks, "Do you want a drink?"

"Yeah, I'd love one. Except, I'll pay."

"What the hell is this? The twelfth century?"


	26. Twenty Six

She's known him- sort of- for awhile now. He taps his pencil ahead of her in Bio. Smiles at her when she sits down. Occasionally, they even exchange pleasantries.

But when Hans, her ex-boyfriend, joins the class, she's glad he's tall enough to hide behind.

Except he's not.

"Hey there," Hans drawls at her.

"Leave me alone."

"Hey I was-"

"I'm not interested. I... I have a new boyfriend."

"Yeah, who?"

"Actually it's Kristopher, here." Takes his hand. His face is priceless. Thankfully, Hans snorts and leaves.

"If we're dating you should know my name is actually Kristoff."

"Oh... Shit."


	27. Twenty Seven

U-pick raspberries.

He's in lust with them.

But he only goes uber early Thursday mornings. When the snotty children are still sleeping.

The juice stains his fingers red. Like blood.

"13.87 pounds," says the girl weighing the berries.

And he realizes he was wrong.

He's not in lust with raspberries; they pale in comparison to her flaming hair. "That will be $20.63," she says.

"Uh, yeah. Here." Hands her a wad of cash.

"You're three dollars and 63 cents short."

It was probably because he was staring at her. Damn, he must look like a lunatic. "Sorry."

But she smiles.


	28. Twenty Eight

She, for some unbenounced reason, lets Olaf take her to a bar for her birthday.

Knowing him, it's probably a gay bar...

But it's not. It's quaint with a blond guy sitting on the stage strumming a guitar.

His voice.

She's in love.

With his voice.

And she supposes the rest of him is pretty too.

"Olaf, how'd you find this place?" she asks. "I thought you partied more than this."

He shrugs.

She asks the bartender the name of the singer. Because she's going to Twitter-stalk him.

"I don't think I need to tell you. Here he comes now."


	29. Twenty Nine

This is why she hates dogs.

She's cornered. A snarling beast, (alright, that may be an exaggeration) teeth bared at her throat.

Why don't these people just own cats?

He's a jogger. But she's screaming so loudly now, that there's no way he can't stop.

"Are you alright?"

"I gonna die!" she shrieks back at him.

"No you're not. See, he just playing." The jogger scratches the dog under his ears. Until...

"Ow, Fuck!" he shouts, the dog bolting into the road. (Anna hopes he gets hit by traffic.) "Shit, that bastard dog bit me!"

"You thought I was crazy..."


	30. Thirty

When the knock resounds off his door, he prays to everything holy that it's not that creepy Jehovah's Witness guy who keeps pounding.

He checks the peephole just to be sure. That guy's too freaky to take any chances.

Luckily, he glimpses a wisp of orange hair.

Opens the door. "Hello?"

"Um, hi. I just moved in across the hall, and my uh- shit, this is awkward. My shower doesn't work. Can I use yours?"

He stares at her. Like a moron. Because she's gorgeous. And she's asking to strip naked in his apartment.

He gulps. "Yeah, sure. Come in."


	31. Thirty One

The kitten paws at her screen door, mewing adorably.

"Hey there, little guy," she says, scratching his ears.

The tag of the collar loops around his neck. Damnit. No address.

She looks up when she hears a clearing throat.

"Hey," says the guy, his shaggy blond hair obscuring his eyes.

"This your cat?"

"Yeah," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "The rascal's been trying to escape all morning."

"Guess he finally succeeded." She goes to hand him the cat, but he leaps out of her arms, bounding across her lawn.

"Damnit!" he swears.

"Would you like some help?"


	32. Thirty Two

He stops by the dollar store on the way to Sven's birthday party. To pick up a present.

He's a terrific friend...

Eighteen minutes later he has a Disney princess coloring book and some Charleston Chews.

He says to the girl behind the counter, "Can I get a helium balloon?"

"Of course! Which one?"

"Pink heart-shaped one."

As she reaches up to grab the ribbon, a mother with five clingy children walks through the door.

The balloon sees this as its opportunity; it escapes.

"Shit!" she swears. The mother glares.

But he catches it, before it can get too far.


	33. Thirty Three

She's groggy when she steps into her morning shower, her towel wrapped securely around her torso.

Spiders. Dozens of them. Crawling out of the drain.

She tumbles out of the tub, onto the tile, (still screaming,) scrapes her foot against the unfinished trim, blood drizzling.

And she's screaming so loudly, that he, in the apartment across the hall, hears her. Barges through her apartment to see if she's being murdered.

He stops dead in his tracks when he see her sprawled on the tile in only a towel. (He sort of didn't realize this was her bathroom.)

"Help me!"

"What?"


	34. Thirty Four

She hates working the hospital's night shift; it's when all the crazies show up.

This guy though, is sexy. She's not technically supposed to flirt with patients.

But when the hell have rules stopped her?

"Hello..." Glances at her clipboard. "Sven Miller."

"Yeah, I'm not actually Sven."

"What?"

"He had the urge to run after some slutty nurse he saw, and left me here for cover."

"He's highly contagious with mono!"

"Yeah."

"He'll be so pleased it didn't take you two seconds to confess."

"More like I'll be pleased that now it's legal for me to ask for your number."


	35. Thirty Five

She wants to throw up. Or cry.

She can't believe Hans, her fucking fiance, would think she'd just be okay when he said, "I've been sleeping with a woman who isn't you."

Obviously it wasn't her; they hadn't slept together yet.

And the worst part: "I got her pregnant."

She runs out of her apartment, bolting into the busy street. A car honks and skids to a stop. She flips him off.

A guy on his bicycle stops when she hits the curb.

"You alright?"

"No. Buzz off."

"How about you let me buy you a coffee."

She looks up.


	36. Thirty Six

Black Friday. For him, it's a day of meticulous planning.

So he's pissed when a fiery red-headed maniac rips the last five blenders from the shelf.

"Why the hell do you need five fucking blenders?"

She turns, dumping the boxes in her cart. "You want one?"

"Hell yeah, I want one! They have stainless steel titanium blend blades!"

She looks him up and down. "I'll make you a deal. You can take one, if you go with me to my sister's wedding."

"You don't know me! I could be a rapist."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Do you want this blender."

"Fine."


	37. Thirty Seven

She can believe she let Olaf set her up on a blind date. He looks like a horse.

Or maybe a reindeer.

"So, Steven-"

"Sven," he corrects her.

"Right."

Awkward silence.

"So, I take it we're not going to sleep together tonight," Sven mutters.

"Excuse me?"

"Geez Sven," says a voice over her shoulder. "Are you really that desperate to get laid?"

"Anna, this is my obnoxious roommate, Kristoff."

"Is he more obnoxious than you are?"

Kristoff snickers. "You ready to be done with this asshole, Anna?"

She glances over at Sven. "Hell yes."

He extends his hand chivalrously. "Mademoiselle?"


	38. Thirty Eight

Ugh, airports.

He rolls his suitcase up to the little leather seat. "Is this one taken?" he asks the girl sitting there.

She looks at him, her eyes bloodshot, her face comically dripping mascara. "Yeah."

He sits down awkwardly. "Is uh... everything alright?"

"My boyfriend just dumped me. Over Facebook. Does anyone even use Facebook any- _hic_!"

He stifles a laugh beneath a cough.

"And now I have the hiccups!"

She looks so... he's not sure what, but he leans over and kisses her.

And for the briefest second, she kisses him back.

Then she pulls back.

And slaps him.


	39. Thirty Nine

He only shows up to this stupid cooking class because Sven bribes him into being the wingman.

What self-respecting guy needs to know how to make gourmet tuna salad?

So while Sven flirts with the busty blond, he's dicing tomatoes. Realized if he accidentally cut his hand, he wouldn't be able to tell what was juice and what was blood.

Yeah, he's definitely a sad excuse for a single guy. This wasn't worth twenty bucks.

She runs in late.

And her partner is that ditzy blond.

Which means the only open counter space, is next to him.

"Hey," he tries.


	40. Forty

He opens the door to Fancy Clips, the obnoxious hair place with the cheezy advertisements and neon signs. Clutches the beanie tighter to his head.

"Hello!" chirps the ridiculously attractive stylist.

"Um, hi." (Very uncomfortably.)

"Just a hair cut?" she asks, leading him to the chair.

"Yeah, Here's the thing. My friends got drunk and decided to cut my hair while I was sleeping. It... it looks like shit."

"It can't be that bad. Take off the hat and..."

There's an awkward pause as she stares at it.

"I looks like... a pancake. Sorry, no offense!"

"Can you fix it?"


	41. Forty One

He hates Christmas.

No, no, scratch that. He's alright with the snow, and the decorating shit, and holiday cheer.

What he isn't okay with is Christmas parties. Especially these blasted ones that Sven throws where a billion people come.

"You know," says a voice over his shoulder. "You're standing under the mistletoe."

"Wait, what?" he asks, looking up.

"I know, you're just looking to get laid by kissing the first girl who-"

"No! I didn't even know-"

And then she's stretched up on her tip toes, lips moving softly against his.

She pulls away. "Want to get a beer?"

"Sure."


	42. Forty Two

She loves working in the candy shop during Christmastime. Sure, it's busy as hell, but the smells of peppermint and dark chocolate, the giddy children's laughter, the snow caking on the front window ledge make it all so cheery.

Olaf's helping a bitchy mother, and since Anna doesn't want to get involved in that mess, she more than willingly helps out the hot guy.

"What can I get you?"

"Just the peppermint truffles."

"I'm sure your girlfriend will love these."

"No girlfriend, unfortunately. These are for my mother."

"In that case..." She scribbles her number on his receipt. "Call me."


	43. Forty Three

The dog comes yipping up at her heels as she jogs briskly early one Monday morning. "Go home," she coaxes in a high voice. He just wags his tail adorably.

"Sven," she mutters reading the dog tag. At least there's a phone number she can call. She pulls out her phone.

"Hello?" says the voice on the other end, panting softly.

"Um, hi. I found your dog..." she pauses as she watches another jogger stop, his phone pressed to his ear. "Wait, are you jogging?"

"Yeah."

"And you can see your dog?"

"Yeah."

"And you see me waving?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."


	44. Forty Four

She meanders slowly around the library, her face buried in a book.

Which is why she doesn't realize there was a person in her way until she's run right into him.

"Fuck!" she shrieks.

"You better hope that librarian didn't hear you," he says. "She's a bitch."

"Oh, I know," she whispers. "I got kicked out three weeks ago for spilling my coffee on a pile of books. In my defense, I was in the middle of reading another book."

"Like you were just doing?"

"Um... well..."

"If I buy you a coffee, will you tell me about that book?"


	45. Forty Five

He rounds the corner of the museum exhibit, when he notices a shadow behind the sculpture of a mammoth.

He peers back, slightly startled when he finds a girl there, her back pressed against the bronze. "What are you- Mmph!"

She slaps her hand over his mouth and yanks him being the statue next to her. "What-"

"Shut up!" she hisses. "My ex-boyfriend's the security guard. He can't see me!"

He looks over his shoulder. Sees the prick.

"Want to get revenge?"

"How?"

He yanks her back, into the open.

And kisses her right in front of that smug bastard.


	46. Forty Six

She hates the smell of the dentist's office.

Which is rather depressing because she's a dental hygienist.

He's sitting in one of those goofy dentist chairs, the ones that lean back to far reading a magazine from the waiting room when she walks in. "Hello," he says. His voice is like chocolate.

She dreads sexy patients; it's weird to stick her hands in their mouths. She'd definitely fuck this guy, but unfortunately for her, that's against the law.

"Uh, hi," she manages to squeak out. "Are you all set?"

He gives her a heart-stoppingly sexy grin. "Yeah. Whenever you are."


	47. Forty Seven

Seven minutes into the first quarter, she gets up from that horribly uncomfortable bleacher. Tells Hans she's getting a hotdog.

She hates football.

Hates Hans for taking her here for her birthday.

She's tries to be inconspicuous, wiping her tears as she stands in the ridiculous line for the bathroom. A hand brushes her shoulder. "I think this is yours," he says. Hands her a cell phone."

"Oh thanks! That was really chivalrous not to sell it on Ebay."

"You can repay me by calling the number I entered in there."

That would be creepy.

If he wasn't super attractive.


	48. Forty Eight

"See, you just hit this button," he says to her. These young, fresh out of college teachers don't know anything, he thinks. This one called him, the technician, because she couldn't get her computer to work, but he's pretty sure she just can't press the "on" button long enough.

He hits it again.

Holds it.

Waits.

"Fuck," he says. She blushes at his profanity. It's downright adorable. And completely sexy.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

He grits his teeth. The irony of this moment is laughing at him. "Your power button's broken."

"Can you fix it?"

"For you Sweetheart, hell yeah."


	49. Forty Nine

"Um, sir?" she says when he walks in her little cafe. "You need to leave your dog outside."

He looks down at Sven. "Dogs are better then people," he mutters.

"Sir?" she asks him.

"I'm leaving. Don't get your panites twisted." He pushes open the door, Sven trotting obediently beside him.

"Hey dude! Wait!" She's running out the door after him.

"What?"

She hesitates for a moment. "I just... ah fuck."

"Sweetheart?"

"Don't call me that! I was going to give you a free smoothie, but you're just an asshole!"

"Hey, wait!"

She turns.

"Can I buy you that smoothie?"


	50. Fifty

"I'll buy that coat," she tells the man behind the counter. The door to the small tourist shop opens, and a burly, snow-covered man walks in.

"It really is a blizzard out, isn't it?" the clerk says.

"Don't go out." the guy replies.

"Really?" Anna says. "But-"

"Stay here."

"But I have to find my sister! She out here camping somewhere! She might be in trouble! Is there any way you can help me?" she asks the guy.

"You're crazy."

"Please?"

"Fine, but you have to pay for my dinner."

She might have just caught a waft of serendipity.

_Fin._


End file.
